see me of the party. The little Prin- | utterly deaf. All light, all reason, cess went up to Mrs. Delany, of whom she is very fond, and behaved like a little angel to her. She then, with a look of inquiry and recollection, came behind Mrs. Delany to look at me. 'I am afraid,' said I, in a whisper, and stooping down, 'your Royal Highness does not remember me?' Her answer was an arch little smile, and a nearer approach, with her lips pouted out to kiss me." The Princess wrote verses herself, and there are some pretty plaintive lines attributed to her, which are more touching than better poetry : "But when the hour of trial came, When folly's gay pursuits were o'er, The poor soul quitted it and ere yet she was dead the agonized father was in such a state, that the officers round about him were obliged to set watchers over him, and from November, 1810, George III. ceased to reign. All the world knows the story of his malady: all history presents no sadder figure than that of the old man, blind and deprived of reason, wandering through the rooms of his palace, all sound of human voices, all the pleasures of this world of God, were taken from him. Some slight lucid moments he had; in one of which, the Queen, desiring to see him, entered the room, and found him singing a hymn, and accompanying himself at the harpsichord. When he had fin ished, he knelt down and prayed aloua for her, and then for his family, and then for the nation, concluding with a prayer for himself, that it might please God to avert his heavy calamity from him, but if not, to give him resignation to submit. He then burst into tears, and his reason again fled. What preacher need moralize on this story; what words save the simplest are requisite to tell it? It is too terrible for tears. The thought of such a misery smites me down in sub mission before the Ruler of kings and men, the Monarch Supreme over em pires and republics, the inscrutable Dispenser of life, death, happiness, victory. "O brothers," I said to those who heard me first in America "O brothers! speaking the samo dear mother tongue O comrades! enemics no more, let us take a mourn, ful hand together as we stand by this royal corpse, and call a truce to battle! Low he lies to whom the proud, est used to kneel once, and who was cast lower than the poorest: dead, whom millions prayed for in vain Driven off his throne; buffeted by rude hands; with his children in re old age killed before him untimely; our Lear hangs over her breathless lips and cries, Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little!' Vex not his ghost-oh! let him pass addressing imaginary parliaments, | volt; the darling of hildren in re reviewing fancied troops, holding ghostly courts. I have seen his picture as it was taken at this time, hanging in the apartment of his daughter, the Landgravine of Hesse Hombourg The - amidst books and Windsor furniture, and a hundred fond reminiscences of her English home. poor old father is represented in a purple gown, his snowy beard falling over his breast the star of his famous Order still idly shining on it. He was not only sightless: he became he hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer!' Hush! Strife and Quarrel, over the solemn grave! Sound, trumpets, a mournful march. Fall, dark curtain, upon his pageant, his pride, his grief, his awful tragedy." GEORGE THE FOURTH. IN Twiss's amusing "Life of El- magazines and newspapers, having don," we read how, on the death of him here at a ball, there at a public the Duke of York, the old Chancellor dinner, there at races and so forth, became possessed of a lock of the you find you have nothing nothing defunct Prince's hair; and so careful but a coat and a wig and a mask was he respecting the authenticity of smiling below it-nothing but a the relic, that Bessie Eldon, his wife, great simulacrum. His sire and sat in the room with the young man grandsires were men. One knows from Hamlet's who distributed the what they were like: what they would ringlet into separate lockets, which do in given circumstances: that on each of the Eldon family afterwards occasions they fought and demeaned wore. You know how, when George themselves like tough good soldiers. IV. came to Edinburgh, a better man They had friends whom they liked. than he went on board the royal according to their natures; enemies yacht to welcome the King to his whom they hated fiercely; passions, kingdom of Scotland, seized a goblet and actions, and individualities of from which his Majesty had just their own. The sailor King who drunk, vowed it should remain for- came after George was a man: the ever as an heirloom in his family, Duke of York was a man, big, burly, clapped the precious glass in his loud, jolly, cursing, courageous. pocket, and sat down on it and broke But this George, what was he? I it when he got home. Suppose the look through all his life, and recognize good sheriff's prize unbroken now but a bow and a grin. I try and take at Abbotsford, should we not smile him to pieces, and find silk stockings, with something like pity as we beheld padding, stays, a coat with frogs and it? Suppose one of those lockets of a fur collar, a star and blue ribbon, the no-Popery Prince's hair offered for a pocket-handkerchief prodigiously sale at Christie's, quot libras e duce sum-scented, one of Truefitt's best nuttymo invenies? how many pounds would you find for the illustrious Duke? Madame Tussaud has got King George's coronation robes; is there any man now alive who would kiss the hem of that trumpery? He sleeps since thirty years: do not any of you who remember him, wonder that you once respected and huzzaed and ad mired him? To make a portrait of him at first seemed a matter of small difficulty. There is his coat, his star, his wig, his countenance simpering under it: with a slate and a piece of chalk, I could at this very desk perform a recognizable likeness of him. And yet after reading of him in scores of volumes, hunting him through old | brown whigs recking with oil, a set of teeth and a huge black stock, under-waistcoats, more under-waistcoats and then nothing. I know of no sentiment that he ever distinctly uttered. Documents are published under his name, but people wrote them private letters, but people spelt thein. He put a great George P. or George R. at the bottom of the page and fancied he had written the paper: some bookseller's clerk, some poor author, some man did the work ; saw to the spelling, cleaned up the slovenly sentences, and gave the lax maudlin slipslop a sort of consistency. He must have had an individuality : the dancing-master whom he emulated, nay, surpassed the wig-ma ker who curled his toupee for him down dead over and over again— to the increased delight of the child. So that he was flattered from his cradle upwards; and before his little feet could walk, statesmen and courtiers were busy kissing them. There is a pretty picture of the royal infant a beautiful buxom child asleep in his mother's lap; who turns round and holds a finger to her lip, as if she would bid the courtiers around respect the baby's slumbers. From that day until his decease, sixty-eight years after, Isuppose there were more pictures taken of that personage than of any other human being who ever was born and On the 12th August, 1762, the forty-died-in every kind of uniform and in long seventh anniversary of the accession every possible court-dress of the House of Brunswick to the fair hair, with powder, with and withEnglish throne, all the bells in Lon- out a pig-tail-in every conceivable don pealed in gratulation, and an- cocked-hat-in dragoon uniform nounced that an heir to George III. in Windsor uniform-in a fieldin a Scotch kilt was born. Five days afterwards the marshal's clothes King was pleased to pass letters patent and tartans, with dirk and claymore in a frogged under the great seal, creating H. R. (a stupendous figure) H. the Prince of Great Britain, Elec- frock-coat with a fur collar and tight in wigs toral Prince of Brunswick Lüneburg, breeches and silk stockingsDuke of Cornwall and Rothsay, Earl of every color, fair, brown, and black of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord-in his famous coronation robes of the Isles, and Great Steward of finally, with which performance he Scotland, Prince of Wales and Earl was so much in love that he distribof Chester. uted copies of the picture to all the courts and British embassies in Europe, and to numberless clubs, townhalls, and private friends. I remember as a young man how almost every dining-room had his portrait. + All the people at his birth thronged to see this lovely child; and behind a gilt china-screen railing in St. James's Palace, in a cradle surmounted by the three princely ostrich feathers, the royal infant was laid to delight the eyes of the lieges. Among the earliest instances of homage paid to him, I read that "a curious Indian bow and arrows were sent to the Prince from his father's faithful subjects in New York." He was fond of playing with these toys; an old statesman, orator, and wit of his grandfather's and great-grandfather's time, never tired of his business, still eager in his old age to be well at court, used to play with the little Prince, and pretend to fall down dead when the Prince shot at him with his toy bow and arrows-and get up and fall There is plenty of biographical tattle about the Prince's boyhood. It is told with what astonishing rapidity he learned all languages, ancient and modern; how he rode beautifully, sang charmingly, and played elegantly on the violoncello. That he was beautiful was patent to all eyes. He had a high spirit: and once, when he had had a difference with his father, burst into the royal "Wilkes and closet and called out, liberty forever!" He was so clever, that he confounded his very governors in learning; and one of them, Lord Bruce, having made a false |